


the pale morning sings of forgotten things

by cloudlesslysky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Old Magic, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22000978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudlesslysky/pseuds/cloudlesslysky
Summary: Malfoy Manor has a secret.It is, perhaps, not one in the traditional sense, but a secret it is, nonetheless.Behind the Manor, hidden away and kept safe far away from prying eyes, is a Garden. A Garden tended to by the Old Ways, a Garden where only the Head of the family and their spouse may tread.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy & Lucius Malfoy & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Draco Malfoy & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 53





	the pale morning sings of forgotten things

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from the lyrics of First Aid Kit's song "The Lion's Roar"

Malfoy Manor has a secret.

It is, perhaps, not one in the traditional sense, but a secret it is, nonetheless.

Around the Manor there are astoundingly large garden areas, all the way until they border on the forest. Anyone can see these, anyone can walk among the flowers, on the grass. Well, anyone who is an accepted visitor can. These gardens are carefully tended to by goblins who have chosen gardening as their life's passion, and thus these garden flourish almost beyond human comprehension.

The Malfoy family's gardens are well known, they're often propped up as amazing works of art in the wizarding community, and rightfully so. They _are_ after all spectacular in their grandeur. No goblin whose life’s passion is gardening would accept anything else.

It’s hardly strange for a manor of this size to have a large and spectacular garden, nor is it strange for these gardens to become well known if the manor owners are influential. The Malfoys would not be the first nor the last to have well-known and awe-inspiring gardens.

These gardens, well known as they are, are not the secret that Malfoy Manor harbours. They couldn’t possibly be.

However, behind the Manor, hidden away and kept safe far away from prying eyes, is a Garden. A Garden tended to by the Old Ways, a Garden where only the Head of the family and their spouse may tread.

The Garden that lies hidden among the land of Malfoy Manor is overgrown with wildflowers, the grass is far longer than what would be considered "seemly", the bushes are just on the edge of overgrown and wild, and the trees stretch out their branches in any direction they so choose.

In a Garden tended by the Old Ways, there is no such thing as weeds. All plants come as they will, though a witch or wizard can plant something they desire, as long as they follow the Old Ways and allow the seeds to take root as they will.

A Garden is a sacred place, a magical place, and always something carefully tended. A Garden where growth in every which way is nurtured, where Magic is allowed to flow freely, the most magical things can happen. Sometimes new species of magical plants crop up. Sometimes the injured or sick find healing. Sometimes...

Sometimes new life is born.

  


* * *

  


Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy have tried for years to have children. They long for the sound of small feet padding across wooden floors and a gurgling laughter accompanied by the clapping of small, chubby hands.

They visit the healers to ensure their health, they take fertility potions despite the assurances that they shouldn't need to... They do everything they possibly can to have children.

But even so, no child starts to grow in Narcissa's womb even as the years pass.

The war is ever looming, increasing in its intensity, but even so Narcissa cannot think of much beyond the fact that their magic has decided to not give them a child. She knows that happens sometimes, that two fertile people who should have no trouble conceiving simply... don't. Their magic stops any attempts their bodies make to properly produce an offspring.

She grieves and watches her husband conceal his own grief to avoid any of his “companions” to see him weak. It hurts her to see him forced to suffer in silence, to project a strong persona who remains untouched at their lack of success with having children. Beyond the fact that her husband _wants_ children, she also knows he feels the pressure of ensuring that his family line lives on.

And if they can't? Will he be forced to take a new lover? Someone else to carry their child for them? Such things are not _done,_ not unless you wish to shame yourself and your line. His only option would be divorcing Narcissa, blaming their lack of children on her, and then marrying anew. It is an option that has been taken before, by Lords and Ladies who needed children for their lines...

But she knows Lucius will not. He loves her too much, enough that she can see the mere thought of throwing her away would rend his soul to pieces. They plotted to ensure their marriage against the plans of their parents in the first place, they're not going to let anything tear them apart. No matter how much their lack of children harms them.

Her own sister comes to visit, subtle barbs thrown into their conversations. Just enough to draw blood, metaphorically anyway. Narcissa has never been overly fond of Bellatrix, she always preferred Andromeda as a child. Bella has always been too sharp, always _eager_ to hurt rather than willing to out of necessity.

More than that, though, Bella has never wanted children. Narcissa knows that Bella's never wanted them, but she thinks her sister will do her duty to the Lestrange family as soon as this war is over. Her allegiance to blood purity and the continuation of the old lines is too staunch for her to allow herself to be the reason and old and pure line like the Lestrange one dies out. But Bella is in no hurry, not hardly... But unfortunately, Bella also _knows_ that Narcissa _wants_ children.

So, she mocks Narcissa. Makes subtle comments about what a shame it must be for every woman with a _barren womb_. Of course, she also makes comments about how _some_ wombs, like Andromeda's, should have stayed barren in the first place. And then the implications come, that it would have been better if Andromeda had stayed loyal and Barren Narcissa had lost her mind and left to marry a mudblood. At least then there would be no halfblood child with noble Black blood running through their veins.

Narcissa withdraws more and more from her sister, finds herself _pleased_ that Bellatrix decides to take a more and more active role in the war. At least then she will stop haunting Narcissa's every step with her comments.

Narcissa finds herself desperate to find somewhere safe, somewhere she can shut out everything that grieves her. Somewhere where there’s no war, no one mocking her lack of a child… Somewhere she can grieve and feel secure.

Narcissa starts working in the Garden as a way to handle her fears, her anxiety. She pulls her husband into working with her lest his bitterness—often focused on the likes of the Weasleys and their large brood of children—overtake him completely. As much as she too feels herself _hate_ the Weasleys for daring to have what she and Lucius cannot—despite being far more capable of caring for children than those blood traitors with even less sense than their pittance of money—they cannot let themselves be swallowed up by it. That way lays madness and it will only cause them to go under.

Perhaps one day their magic will gift them a child, and so they cannot let themselves get entirely lost to madness before that time comes. 

So instead they work together in the Garden; prune what needs it, make love in the grass, plant flowers they would like to see. They grow it as a wild thing, their own little secret, and they keep it hidden from even the house elves. A Garden tended by the Old Ways is a sacred place, one where no strangers must tread. It's a place where only the magic of the tenders is allowed to be. The Old Ways could not allow anything less.

And sometimes, very rarely, the Garden will give something infinitely precious back as thank you for the care you give it.

Something so precious and rare there is no reason to even hope for it when tending to a Garden.

Narcissa doesn't notice it immediately, but once she does, her heart starts hammering so hard in her chest she can only barely breathe through it.

Below the earth under her bare feet—the earth growing ever colder with the quickly approaching winter—is a spark of magic and warmth that is impossible to mistake for anything but what it is.

A child.

It is the most precious gift a Garden can possibly give you. It is a rare and wondrous thing, one only very few people ever receive.

She falls to her knees and flattens her hands against the wild grass, luxuriating in the feeling of that small pulse of magic. Her _child_.

Not even the fear and anger and dread of the war can ruin this joy for her. She didn't plan for this when she started tending to a Garden, not even when she chose to do so per the Old Ways... But now that she has it... Oh she could weep from the joy of it all.

This tiny life—still months from coming into this world, months from being in her arms—is far more precious to her than anything else in the world. Already she would raze the world to the ground to protect it if she needed to.

Her husband returns that evening, his hair in disarray from being beneath a hood for an extended period of time, his face tired, and his protective cloak smoking just a bit with lingering hexes. He'll need to withdraw from the battlefield, she decides. She will not have her child and lose her husband in the process. No doubt can he withdraw enough to be more along the lines of being a financial backer rather than a dog of war. As he _should_ have been all along.

Only his rage and grief let him ever lose sight of that fact. So, it falls to Narcissa to remind him, through this gift they’ve been given.

With the knowledge of her child's life, Narcissa finds that she has never been less interested in pursuing the ideals of blood purity. It's important, how could it not be, but she will not have her husband spill his blood and die for it. Nothing would be worth losing him. Especially not now that their child is on its way. She will _not_ have her child grow up without its father.

He argues with her, he's always been stubborn, her beloved. However, as soon as she brings him to the Garden, as soon as he feels the spark of life and magic growing beneath the earth for himself... He reacts much as she did, and soon they're lying together on the ground, on each side of the spark, their woven hands resting on top of it.

She stares into her husband's eyes and she sees the determination in them. They have been given a gift of immeasurable worth and he cannot risk himself. For their child's sake he will need to stay safe.

"We must keep the true nature of our child's growth secret," he whispers to her, as they lie beneath the stars in their Garden.

With a pang of dismay, she realises that he's right. A pureblood Garden Child is beyond special, and as the years have passed and the battles have intensified... Narcissa fears the Dark Lord. Fears what he might do if he found out the truth of their child.

She gives her husband a tremulous smile.

"It seems I must become pregnant, then."

It will hardly be a problem for them to fake a pregnancy. Magic can easily take care of an ever-growing fake stomach she can wear beneath her robes, glamoured to look just like a real stomach, spelled to behave like one too.

There's no one they can truly trust with the truth. Should Bella find out... No doubt the Dark Lord would too. No, they will need to bind their private physician by an Unbreakable Vow to ensure it stays secret until a time comes when they dare speak of it. If such a time ever does.

Right then and there, in their Garden under the night sky, begins the most important charade of their lives.

Their physician takes the Vow, writes fakes notes regarding her pregnancy as well as the real notes regarding the growing Garden Child and soon there is a legitimate paper trail for Narcissa's pregnancy. The papers have been enchanted so only the person who knows the password can unveil the truth of them: that Narcissa is not pregnant at all and that their child is a Garden Child, growing beneath the earth of their home.

Only Narcissa knows the password. Lucius asks that she does not tell him. What he does not know he cannot betray, even by accident or through force.

She shores up her mental defences, practices her Occlumency almost obsessively. She will not have anyone discover her secret, not before it is safe. Not before she can be sure the nature of her child will not cause them to be in danger.

The thought niggles in her mind, gnaws at her as she tries to sleep: who poses the biggest threat to her child, muggleborns who do not _understand_ and refuse to so much as try, or the Dark Lord and his thirst for power?

  


* * *

  


Her child is born from the earth during early summer.

The ground cracks and splits, and in the hole that breaks open in the grass lies a perfectly formed and oh so precious baby boy.

With shaking hands she reaches into the hole and brings her child in her arms for the first time ever. She can't take her eyes off his perfect little face, sleeping as he is.

She hears Lucius sniffle as he wraps his arm around her shoulders and his finger strokes their child's cheek.

"He's so beautiful," she whispers, just as their baby opens his eyes—new-born blue and unseeing—and smacks his little lips.

"He is..." Lucius's voice is soft with awe.

Narcissa knows they're both equally in love with this small child, born from their magic and the fertile earth of their Garden. She would trade all the galleons in their vaults for his life and safety, the thought of him ever coming to harm makes her want to start blasting curses around her.

"Our son," she murmurs and finally lifts her gaze to look Lucius in the eyes.

He smiles at her and gives her a weak nod. "We'll need a name for him before we call the doctor to make a birth certificate for him."

She strokes their son's bald head and whispers a thank you to the Garden. She feels a wind breeze gently by, rustling the leaves—almost like an answer. They head inside with their son to bring him to the nursery. She doesn't want him to be chilled, and she would prefer not to use too much magic on her new-born child. He's born of magic after all, and she's not sure if any spells cast right now could interact negatively with him.

"May I hold him?" Lucius voice is low and shaky and with a start Narcissa realises that she hasn't left her husband so much as hold their baby yet.

"As soon as we reach the nursery," she says and continues on her way, Lucius right by her side.

The look of unfathomable joy on her husband's face as she finally places their son in his arms is worth the ache of no longer having their baby’s weight in her embrace. She imagines the loss of a limb may feel somewhat similar to this.

"Regarding names..." she whispers, know that her husband likely has considered some family names for their son.

Lucius looks up at her then, frown on his face as if he heard something in her voice she didn't mean for him to hear.

"I was the only sister not given a star name... Both my cousins had star names as well... I would like our child to have one in my stead, per Black tradition."

The look on Lucius's face, the widening of his eyes, the way his mouth drops open just slightly, tells her that he will not— _cannot_ —refuse her.

"Of course, my love," he says, voice low.

"I know that it's a July constellation and that it's still merely June, but..." She strokes her child's cheek. "What do you think of Draco Lucius Malfoy?"

Lucius's face softens and he leans in close, his lips pressing gently against her own just briefly. When he leans back again, there's a small smile on his face.

"That sounds perfect. A name truly worthy of a child born both Malfoy and Black."

Narcissa smiles and looks down at their son.

Draco Lucius Malfoy.

A child more precious than anything else in the entire world.


End file.
